


The Day The Door Vomited Blood

by Missy



Category: My Name is Bruce (2007)
Genre: Community: schmoop_bingo, F/M, Family, Humor, Movie Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-12
Updated: 2010-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Kelly and Jeff go to a video store to rent a couple of flicks - but there are philosophical differences in their choice of entertainment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day The Door Vomited Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for schmoop_bingo, prompt: Movie Night

Kelly stared at the DVD case as Bruce held it up for her. “‘The Day The Door Vomited Blood,’” she read aloud. “Y’know what? No.”

“Aww, c’mon! This is a classic of exploitation!” Bruce insisted.

“No, Bruce.”

He held out two more boxes. “How about The Girl Who Shot The Moon?”

Kelly glared at the cover. “It has a picture of a girl going into a meat grinder on the cover.”

Bruce gave her one of his I-know-everything looks of superiority. “And that’s how you know you’re getting good exploitation, baby,”

“Try to find something family-friendly,” Kelly demanded, turning around and picking through the small pile of childrens DVDs beside her.

“Aww, Jeff’s gonna hate that,” he frowned. “If there’s less than three garrotings he starts texting in the middle of the movie.” Bruce smirked. “God, I love texting. Every teenager that spends ten minutes doing that spends ten bucks going back to the theatre to watch a movie.”

Kelly rolled her eyes at Bruce’s cynicism. “What about the ones who can’t take their eyes off of you?”

He smirked and tucked his thumbs in his belt loop. “Why, Miss Kelly, I do detect a note of Southern charm in your voice.”

She reached for a video stuck on the lower shelf. “I’m from Vermont, Bruce.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “Southern Vermont?” he asked hopefully. Kelly rolled her eyes again, pulling out two DVDs while Bruce monologued to the air. “There aren’t many places like this left anymore.” He inhaled deeply. “Smell that?”

Kelly had surreptitiously guided Bruce into the romance section. She took a long sniff and quirked a brow. “Stale popcorn and lemon Pledge?”

He shook his head. “Dreams! Small markets getting their hands dirty and working with their brains and their guts to make the best damn movies they can.”

“Like ‘Chatterbox’?” She asked.

Bruce grinned, reaching for the DVD, “heyyyy…”

Kelly pulled it out of his reach. “We’re not watching that,” she informed him.

“As I was saying,” Bruce said, clearing his voice, “the DVD store is the last bastion of family entertainment in America.”

“Oh God, please don’t start with this again,” she groaned.

“In an America that’s being sectionalized by the internet,” he said dramatically, “marginalized by machines and technologized by On Demand services, you can’t find any better service or any better movies than you do right here in this little video store. And you have to go to the asscrack of the wilderness to get it!” At that point, Bruce got a bag of microwaved popcorn to the back of the head. While he yelled at the teenagers who had hit him, Kelly bent down and picked two different movies.

“Are you done?” she asked, when he returned with a bag of blue cotton candy.

“Basically,” Bruce declared. “Whatt’ve you got there?”

“The Wedding Planner and the Wedding Singer,” she said, brandishing the two cases.

“They didn’t have The Wedding Divorce?” Bruce asked.

“Don’t you like anything romantic?” Kelly asked. “I thought I saw you tear up during Pretty Women.”

“Richard Gere got out of paying back a hooker he owed over a hundred plus dollars to. That’s enough to bring a tear to the eye,” Bruce replied. “Don’t they have anything for couples?”

“This IS for couples,” she replied, brandishing a case featuring Jennifer Lopez and Julia Roberts hanging off of Matthew McConneghey’s arms.

Bruce smirked. “Did Julia Roberts finally make a movie about swingers?.”

Kelly’s mouth dropped open. “No!”

“Damn, I thought she finally got my letters…” Kelly smacked him in the ribs with the case.

“If you don’t start taking this seriously,” she informed him, “We’ll walk out of this store empty handed.”

“Damn, you’re a pushy broad,” he complained. “You’re lucky you’re so damn hot…”

“Bruce…” She pulled away from his touch.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to do it in a store, baby?” he wondered. “Right between cardboard cutouts of Charlize Theron and Matthew Broaderick doing the tango?”

He stood there and wiggled his eyebrows until Kelly pushed him out of the way. “Please concentrate. Please. For me.”

“When you use that voice I’d do anything for you, baby,” Bruce declared. “All right, you want me to pick between the shitty romcom and the shitty…comedy. Tough pick.”

Suddenly, a voice came from the back of the room. “Bruce,” Jeff cried, “they have Faces of Horror Five: When Noses Get Ripped Off!”

Kelly slapped a palm against her fact as Bruce eagerly rushed to look at the copy. He examined the box the way another man would measure and examine a fine snifter of wine. “This isn’t the Deluxe Edition, kid,” he said. “What you need is the Heads Off Edition. Two hours of bonus features, no waiting, and no commentaries.”

“I thought you loved commentaries,” Kelly remarked.

“Doing them, not listening to them.” Bruce gave a dramatic shudder. “Who cares what Ewe Boll thinks about making Postal?”

“Is he giving you a hard time?” Jeff asked his mother.

“Only every time I breathe,” Kelly replied. “Is someone going to help me make a decision?”

“Uhhh,” Jeff dithered. “How about Jackass Two?”

“Jackass. Two,” Kelly said slowly, savoringly. There was the smallest possible hint of an explosion in the air.

Bruce winced. “Kid, didn’t you learn anything from my autobiography?”

“Yeah, don’t dry a shirt in front of the fire if you get Karo blood on it.”

“You’re killing me, kid,” Bruce groaned.

“Tootsie,” Kelly declared. “And that’s my final offer.”

Bruce looked to Jeff, and Jeff looked back at Bruce. It was surrender or go without dinner, and for them that was an untenable idea.

“Okay,” they said simultaneously.

***

Jeff, predictably, started texting in the middle of the movie. But Bruce actually paid attention and laughed in the right places, his arm slung around Kelly’s shoulders. By the time the credits rolled, Jeff had fallen asleep with a mouthful of popcorn, and Bruce and Kelly were necking like a couple of teenagers.

“Well,” he said, wiping away her Chapstick, “guess guys in drag put you in the mood. Did I ever show you that episode from Herc where I…”

The pillow she planted against his schnozzle cut off Bruce’s next sentence.


End file.
